transgressings | inbox for duplicity;

I had wondered, Mr. Gray, but given how recently scarce our Mr. Matthews has become, I imagined a certain return had something to do with informing his absence.

[ she offers the words lightly, almost teasingly — she knows, perhaps almost more than anyone here, how his disappearance had left toby. it's the same impact grayson's vanishing has left on her, although she does her best not to dwell on it most days for fear she'll simply never leave her house again.

but invitations like this are a balm in and of themselves, and she finds herself nodding even before the words inevitably follow. ]

Of course. You're more than welcome to call on me at home, or I can find my way to wherever you're staying. I assume you also recall the Crucible by now.

We had our happy ending, [he agrees] our third one, even. Now, as always, it's back to Earth as it is, and life for us both. You'll see him around again soon enough.

[It's downplaying how over the moon he's actually been, but he isn't one to gush about love, and romance. That's too much - too vulnerable.]

I couldn't forget the Crucible. [There's a spark of amusement, and mischief, in his tone.] But I'll drop by your home. Where are you living now?

I'm certain. He has a way of making his presence known sooner rather than later.

[ and she won't press the subject further, after that initial discussion about it — but it still bears mentioning. ]

The townhouse in the Down once more, since the city's graciously allowed me to keep it. Any evening you wish to occupy there is yours.

[So there's somewhere, even if this means she wasn't allowed to keep the underground home Grayson kept.

Selfishly, he's a little glad to be spared the reminder.]

Tonight? I'll be sure to leave my sage and spirit channelling materials at home.

[ the property still exists, though she can't live in it on her own. at least the structure of it, built into the cave face as it is, should remain somewhat intact until grayson's return.

she has to believe that, at least. ]

I'm sure the spirits will appreciate your thoughtfulness.

[Well after sunset that evening, Dorian makes his way up the steps to Vanessa's townhouse. He's dressed fashionably, in dark and well-cut clothing, his curls carefully styled in the same manner he always arranges them in before leaving the house.

He doesn't know, exactly, where he and Vanessa stand after the time that's passed since they last met, but he's curious about this meeting. They felt close to an understanding after their time together at the Violent Delights party - one built on mutual experiences of the supernatural, and her awareness of his history through her own Dorian Gray - and he wants to know where that leads.

Raising a hand, he knocks on her front door.]

Vanessa? It's Dorian.

[ He isn't her Dorian — Vanessa knows that to be true, knows it as deeply as any other incontrovertible truth that has arisen here — and yet when she opens the door to him, the sight of him before her is still enough to temporarily catch her off-guard. Her breath doesn't catch anymore; those telltale, human responses are denied to her now that she's a vampire, but perhaps her surprise can be attributed in part to the styling of curls atop his head, the well-tailored fit of his clothing. All things that feel so quintessentially Dorian Gray, even if it doesn't happen to be the Dorian she's most familiar with.

Regardless, her smile is genuine as she greets him, swiveling forward to gently brush her lips against his cheek in the ghost of a kiss before retreating and indicating the interior of the house with the sweep of a hand. ]

Come in, please. Would you care for anything to drink? I could also give you a proper tour of the place, if you're interested, although as far as potential guides are concerned you have only myself or the cat to choose from — and she comes and goes as she pleases.

Why don't we do a short tour and then drinks? [Seeing the ways people decorate their spaces is always diverting -- and it can be revealing.] I'll admit I'm curious about what it's like living with ghosts. I had a few in Mayfair from time to time, but they weren't what I'd call friendly. More like petty and vengeful.

[Smiling, he allows her to take him away, and deeper into her home.]

Do yours like a clairvoyant?

inbox for duplicity;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

text → action

no subject

no subject